


That Night

by vpacfridaythe13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:59:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vpacfridaythe13/pseuds/vpacfridaythe13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Sherlock faked his death he went to visit a friend.  When Irene Adler hears about the death of Sherlock Holmes, she is heartbroken, so she sends a text. Imagine her shock when it gets a reply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Night

Irene sighed as she walked home from a rather tiring client. She pulled out her phone and checked it for any messages; nothing. She sighed, slightly relieved and slightly annoyed. She would be alone again tonight, as usual. 

She walked back along the Thames, the moonlight shining across the river, dancing on the waves. She swallowed, for some reason looking out at the Thames at night always reminded her of him. Probably because of that text she had sent him that one night she had been gazing at the the round disc in the night sky. She choked back a sob as she thought of his death earlier that day. She had heard about it from an inside source--an eyewitness to be exact. She couldn't believe it. The man she loved was dead. And she had never told him.   
Their last night together, in Karachi, had been awkward and tense, ultimately, bitter. They had each exchanged parting words of hate and resentment, fear and pride both paralysing them from saying the words they truly had wanted to say. Or at least she had truly wanted to say. Sentiment; what a heartbreakingly annoying thing.   
She bit her lip and willed herself to not cry. She would not shed tears of him, she couldn't. Because if she did, it would be real; he would be dead. Denial--denial was good. She could do denial.   
She turned away from the river and headed back to her Belgravia flat. She had managed to get it after she returned to London. Number 44. She smirked sadly as she let herself in, recalling the day they had met.

Sherlock sighed as he watched her walk along the riverside. She was beautiful in the silver lighting, the light accenting her features like that of Venus, the Roman Goddess, not that he could ever tell anybody that. He was meant to be dead, and it was only to protect those that he... cared for, that he was hiding.   
A gentle breeze of night air brushed past him as she entered her flat, the same one that she had on that fateful day, the day he met the woman who beat him. As the door closed behind her, he reached into his coat pocket, fingering the phone that he always kept on him. Should he text her, communicate with her in some way that he was still alive? Shaking his head, he withdrew his hand again. He had to resist the urge, he must not let his emotions cloud his judgement and goal. No one could know that he was alive until Moriarty's circle had been taken out.

Irene sighed as she walked into her empty town house and switched on the light. She threw her coat on a nearby chair and grabbed her phone from her purse. She crossed the the same couch he had sat on when she first laid eyes on him, blinking back tears, yet again. She bit her quivering lip as she texted him, knowing he would never again respond....not that he ever really had before...but the possibility....the hope she had always carried, was gone, forever now. "Hello Mr Holmes.... IA"

His hand flashed to his coat as an erotic moan emitted from it. Heart pounding rapidly, although it was irrational for him to be nervous from a single text, he unlocked the phone, only to see the words that seemed to tear a hole in his soul "Hello Mr. Holmes.... IA". At that, he felt his resolve crumble, for those words, along with the vision of the figure that he had seared into his mind, forced his hand against his mental will. Flipping to the keyboard, he typed out "Hello again, Miss Adler. ~SH", but before he could press SEND, his mind took control once again and forced him to delete the message. He had to remember the mission, why he was doing this. Tears welled in his shocking blue eyes, though, as he stared at the message. Brushing an onyx curl from his line of sight, he placed his phone back in his pocket and took a deep breath in order to calm his raging nerves.

She closed her eyes, her hands holding her phone tightly against her chest. She took a deep breath as she felt the knot in her throat grow. She swallowed, taking her phone down and looking at it in her lap. She picked it up, "We never did get have diner...Shame...I suppose I'll be eating alone, from now on. IA" She pressed send as hot tears began to pour down her face.

Mentally cursing as that moan that haunted his dreams and thoughts emitted from his coat once more, he couldn't resist pulling the accursed object from his pocket. Unlocking the phone once more, he read the newest text. At this, he could no longer control himself and flipped to the keyboard. Typing a quick message of "I'm not dead. ~SH" he quickly pressed SEND before stowing the phone back in his coat and turning to walk off, the moonlight shining on his pale face.

Irene froze as she felt her phone vibrate in her lap. She looked down at the tear-stained screen of her phone and let out a choked gasp. She shook her head, it couldn't be....It had to be some sort of joke...someone must have ripped his phone off of his body, one of Moriarty's men no doubt. She narrowed her eyes, blinking through tears as her breath hitched with hope, hope she knew she had to kill, "Prove it. IA"

As his phone signaled once more that she had replied, he tried to ignore it. Never had he ignored a text, even if he didn't reply to it. Cursing himself once more, he pulled the phone out and flipped it open. Staring at the two words on the screen, he began an internal battle with himself. On one side, he had to protect the people that were being targeted, but on the other hand, he felt something towards this woman that he had never felt before, and according to Moriarty, she was not one of the people targeted by his men. Pressing the buttons at a rapid pace, he sent a text back to her before turning to face the house again. "Come outside. ~SH"

She bit her lip debating with herself internally. Was it safe? Was this a ploy to finally get her head? She Stood up and crossed to the window, glancing down the street. She gripped her phone, "I'm not about to risk my life if this is a trap. Prove it. Tell me something that is known only between us. IA"

Smirking slightly at the reply, he admired her perceptions. Thinking back to everything the two had shared, he typed out one six word text, hoping to get her attention. He then turned the volume on full as an attempt for her to hear when he got the reply. "I'm not dead. Let's have dinner. ~SH"

Irene nearly dropped her phone as she brought a hand up to cover her gasp. Her breathing increased as tears of joy, frustration, anger, heartbreak, love, and most of all utter and sheer relief, rolled down her cheeks. "Come inside. Now. IA"

Smiling at the reply, a real smile, he placed the phone back in his coat before walking up the steps of the flat and turned the door handle, opening it without a sound. Stepping in, he removed his coat and hung it on the rack before entering the sitting room, laying eyes on the one he loved.

Irene heard the door open before his footsteps clicked across the wooden floor of the foray to the living room. She closed her eyes, as her forehead pressed against the cool, glass of the pane. She took a deep breath before slowly turning to glance at him. Her heart jumping at the sight. Her lip quivered as her eyes scanned his matted hair, covered in what looked like dried blood, and dirt. Her brow furrowed as a pained expression erupted on her face as the mental image of his long body splayed out on the cement. She swallowed, "Mr Holmes, I presume." She whispered, praying her voice didn't sound too choked. She wiped her eyes quickly, wondering if he could tell she had been sobbing over him. She hoped not, though to be honest, at this precise moment, she didn't give a rat's ass about the mask she had come to wear in front of him. Her mask of self-preservation and sentimental protection.

"Miss Adler." He said, a sob of relief and sorrow cracking his voice. He couldn't bear to see those beautiful, intelligent eyes fill with tears, especially when they are caused by him. 'Tear tracks, redness around her eyes, slightly frizzy hair due to a raised body temperature, irritation of the cheeks from where she whipped them with her hand, as evident with the moisture already residing there" conclusion, she was crying over him. That realization tore his heart in two. All he had wanted to do was to protect those he cared for from harm, and he ended up being the cause of it. His resolve breaking, he rushed forward and pulled her into his strong arms, burying his face in those brown locks that he so longed for. He felt himself relax as he was surrounded by her familiar, comforting scent.

Irene clutched to him as if her life depended on it--hell, it did. She nuzzled her face against his chest, as she broke down completely. Her body and shoulders shaking as she sobbed against his chest. "Sherlock....Oh....Sherlock." She muttered, her hands clawing at him.

Finally, the tears poured down his face as he heard her voice. He felt her hot tears stain his shirt, but at that moment, he couldn't care less. He whispered words of comfort and reassurance as he cried into her hair. Clutching her tighter, he felt her fingernails clawing at his back, but he relished in the feeling, for it gave absolute proof that she was there and real, not a dream that haunted him like a taunt.

She pulled back slightly, her vision blurred by the moisture in her eyes. She searched his, her face contorting as a rush of emotions flooded across her face. Suddenly a flush of anger stabbed her heart; anger for not having warned her ahead of time. Anger for what had happened that night in Karachi--for what hadn't happened that night--for all the heartbreak and sentiment and love he unknowingly had taught her. She whipped her hand across his left cheek. Her hand stung, but she didn't address it. She hardened her lips into a thin line as she spat, "How could you!?"

Shock and stinging pain registered in his mind as he felt an impact on the side of his face. She had slapped him, which, given the circumstances, was understandable in of its own. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her to the white couch and sat her down, before explaining everything that had happened leading up to it, and why he had to fake his own death. "... So, do you understand now? I have to protect my friends, and the only way I can do that is if they believe that I am dead while I, and a few of Mycroft’s men, get rid of Moriarty's circle. Please, I beg your forgiveness. I only had your protection and safety in mind. As for the night in Karachi; I was afraid. I have never felt for anyone, or anything, like I feel for you, and I was unsure of how to act on them. I realize now that I had nothing to fear and I should have acted, not on intellect, but on instinct, something I, as you should know, struggle with. Please, forgive me. I am so sorry, Irene."

Irene listened to his words, her face hard at first but slowly, as he went, it softened. She knew how hard this was for him. How strong his pride was. How weak being so sentimental probably made him feel. Her eyes darted between his as she nodded slowly as he finished, she brought a hand to smooth out the redness with the pad of her thumb. She leaned up and pressed her lips against his. Their very first kiss. She kept it chaste, though her tongue longed to slide between his lips and explore that wonderfully sarcastic mouth of his. She pulled back slightly, as she finally said the three words she had so longed to say that night, "I love you, Mr Sherlock Holmes. God help me, but I do."

Shocked at the kiss, though he did not mind at all, he pressed his forehead to hers, gently cupping her face with a slender, yet strong hand, and whispered the words he had longed to say since he had come to terms with his emotions. "And I love you, Ms Irene Adler. God can do nothing now, because I am never leaving you again. Never" and with those words, he pressed his lips to hers, this time with force.

Irene felt a deep fire erupt from the centre of her being, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. She moaned against his lips as climbed on top of his lap, straddling it with her thighs. She snaked her hands up and curled her fingers in his bloodied locks, not caring how dirty or stained she got her lavish dress. She pressed her chest against his as her arse ground against his groin. She thrust her tongue into his mouth hungrily.

Quickly adjusting to wrap his arms around her, Sherlock moaned into her, an unknown fire lighting in the pit of his stomach. No longer did he care about the circle, or keeping the ones he loved safe from harm, all that mattered at that moment was the woman in his lap. Soon enough, his mind shut down, allowing his body to control all actions, and he soon found himself grinding upwards, his clothed erection rubbing against her, creating a beautiful friction.

She explored his mouth, ravishing it with her own, as their tongues danced. The kiss was sloppy and elementary, Sherlock being inexperienced and all, but it was the best kiss she had ever experienced in her life. It was full of passion, and need, and lust, and most of all, pure and utter love for the other. She pulled back, and eyed him darkly, taking his hand in hers, “Bedroom? Unless you fancy losing your virginity at the very place we first met....quite unconventional.” She smirked, raising a saucy brow.   
Forcing his mind to work through the heavy cloud of lust, he thought of what she had said, and, without replying, lifted her up with him as he stood. “Where is the bedroom?” he forced out, nuzzling her neck.

She got up and pulled him after her, “Upstairs where it was last time.” She teased, eyeing the tent in his trousers with a grin. “Someone’s happy to see me.” She winked, leading him up the stairs to her room.

Ignoring the teasing nature of her voice, he followed her up the stairs and down the extensive hallway. Stopping at the third door on the left, he watched as she pushed it open quickly. The room was large, though the space was dominated mainly by the four poster bed, located in the center. The room was dark, only lit by the moonlight that filtered through the bay window.

Irene squeezed his hand as she walked him in the room, turning around to shut the door before turning back to face him. She smiled softly at him, talking a few steps to meet his form. She reached a hand up to stroke his cheek gently, “I want this to be perfect. Your first time--our--first time should be perfect and everything you want it to be.” She murmured sweetly. 

Pressing his lips to hers once more, he muttered to her “I am with you, and that in of itself makes all of this perfect” before grabbing her hand and leading her over to the bed. It was true, he had never felt the way that he feels for her, and because of that, the mere fact that he was with her, made it perfect.

Irene slipped off her heels, her petite 5’3 figure making him seem even taller than he actually was. She blushed at the height difference before turning around, “Mind unzipping my dress?” She asked, glancing at him over her shoulder with a wink. 

Without a word, he moved his hand up her curved side before gently pulling the zipper down, ending at the gentle curve of her back. Once that was done, he stepped back, his long fingers working at the tight buttons of his purple shirt. Pulling that from his arms, he looked at her again. The light from the window fell directly on her figure, illuminating her, creating a glow, much like one would expect on an angel.

She forgot that she was wearing some of her most revealing and seductive undergarments; black, sheer, lace knickers that cut high on her pale cheeks, not quite a thong but very close, and a matching black lace bra, that was also quite sheer, her now hard nubs of flesh straining against the fabric. The look was completed with a pair of her trademark black thigh high stockings, a black seam line running up the the back of her legs. They were attached to a garter belt that matched her knickers, the straps hugging her thighs tightly. She bit her lip and blushed, though she wasn’t sure why. She was a dominatrix after all, she had used to live to tease him with such an outfit, having choose to wear her battle dress the first time they met. However, something about this moment was utterly different. Of course it was. They had finally admitted everything that they felt for the other. And Love was a dangerous game neither of them had ever played....it only made sense. She looked up at him, “Sorry, I had a client...” She mumbled, secretly praying that he was enjoying the show, and might be intrigued by that darker side of her. 

The vision of the woman he loved in sheer lace undergarments nearly sent his mind into overdrive, but he was able to control himself. Stepping forward, he placed his hands upon her hips, pulling her flush against him, leaning his forehead to meet hers. “You look absolutely ravishing.” he muttered. He did not mind that she had had a client that day, because that was the way she made her living, much like how he solved crimes and risked his life every day. Pressing his lips to hers, he reached behind her and slowly undid the clasp of her bra, pulling it down her arms. Turning the both of them around, he walked her back to the bed, laying them both down when they reached it. Pulling back, he saw a sight that he will forever remember; the Woman, in all of her glory, lay beneath him. Her hair was splayed out like a dark halo, intensifying the luscious cream color of her skin; she was beautiful.

She gazed up at him, running hands down his smooth, pale, hairless chest. She bit her lip as a smile cracked over her face, “Dear Lord, is this really happening? Are you sure you’re not just a dream? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pleasured myself, thinking about this very moment.” She husked, darkly, unable to help herself from confessing such a private and intimate secret.

Smiling, he looked deep into her slate eyes. “I assure you, I am very much so real, this is not a dream. And I too, have... pleasured myself with thoughts of you.” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Pressing his lips upon hers once more, he felt the fire igniting again, brighter than before. Dragging on hand up her smooth stomach, resting gently on the soft curve of her breast. His eyes slid shut, relishing in the sensations surrounding him. 

Irene’s eyes shot up in mild surprise at his words followed by a high gasp as he finally touched her soft orb. She felt her juices between her thighs and crossed her legs slightly, needing some sort of friction at her southern nub. She swallowed and looked at him darkly, “You...you masturbated.....to me? You...do that?” She asked, shocked and more than flattered. Her hands came to cup his face before tangling them in his locks. 

His lips turned up at her shocked voice as he gently massaged her breast. “Yes, I assure you, I did. A mind like mine can make some very... creative situations for the body to find pleasure in.” he said, moving his legs to undo her own, making it so that he lay between them, their clothed crotches pressed together. It was only then did he remember that he still had his trousers on, and so he stood up, his body longing for the touch once more. Quickly removing them, he looked at the sight before him. Irene Adler, the public’s favorite dominatrix, was laid out before him. He couldn’t help but feel his ego inflate slightly.

Irene licked her lips as she eyed his muscular lean legs and the bulge that was begging to be released in his boxer-briefs. She let out a soft whimper as her centre began to throb, “Jesus, Sherlock, do you realise how wet you can make me?” She breathed, her hand traveling down to stroke herself over her knickers. She was way too aroused to allow for such lack of contact. 

At her words, he moved over to her, standing between her legs and moving her hand away. Moving his hands, he hooked his fingers around the sides of the lace, pulling it down her toned legs, the leggings and garter following along. His breath caught in his throat at the sight revealed to him. He felt his arousal harden even more, pressing against his underwear uncomfortably.

She smirked at his reaction, glancing down at her bare mound before catching his eye, “See something you like?” She husked, noticing how his briefs had twitched.

Breathing deeply, he reached down and quickly removed his own boxer-briefs, allowing his aroused member to be released. Quickly, he lay between her legs again, pressing his lips against hers, one hand reaching between them and slowly massaging her clitoris. 

Irene let out a moan of sheer pleasure as he touched the one spot she had so longed for him to graze for all these months. She arched her back up as her hands moved to his shoulders, her nails digging in his skin. “Oh, God, that feels so good.” she breathed, “Fuck, I’m dripping.” She added, feeling her juices leak down her inner thighs. She never had been so aroused in her life. It was almost shocking. She swallowed as she let out another whimper as his fingers circled around her swollen clit. 

Sherlock’s member twitched at her words, the smell of her arousal beginning to fill the room. Smirking as a thought entered his mind, he slowly leaned down, pressing his lips upon her hard nipple before opening his mouth and flicking his tongue out, teasing her. He was going to make her beg.

She arched her back more, pressing her chest against his mouth as she let out a small cry of surprise and pleasure. She lifted her pelvis, pinning his hand between them, as she hooked a leg over his waist and rolled him over, so that she was straddling his waist. She lifted her hips up to press his hard cock against his abdomen before slowly sliding her wet folds up and down him. She smirked slyly as she ran her hands over his pectoral muscles before leaning over to husk in his ear, “Did you really think I was going to let you be in control the whole time, my love?” She began, nibbling on his earlobe before pulling back to continue, “I am a dominatrix remember? Besides, I told you before, I’d make you beg for mercy. Twice.” Her centre was now at the tip of his cock, she moaned as she circled her entrance around him. Not allowing for any penetration, but just to tease him at the suggestion of it. She pulled back to eye his reaction. 

Shocked at the change in position, his body was nearly overcome with pleasure as she teased him. Groaning deeply, he reached his hands up to clutch her hips. He felt her juices start to drip down his cock, and, almost forcing, he bit out the words; “I don’t... beg.”

She ceased her gyrations, and arched a brow at him curiously, “Oh, don’t you, Mr Holmes?” She purred, returning to her formal address of him. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you haven’t felt my mouth around your cock yet, have you?” She flashed him a devilish smile as she leaned down to kiss her way south, licking and nipping his smooth chest as she made her way to his hip bones, gnawing at each softly before sliding her tongue down the light path of hairs that formed his happy trail. She finally reached her desired target and gripped him with her right hand. She leaned down and licked the tip of his head ever so lightly. She pulled back and glanced up at him, begging to see his reaction. 

Sherlock gasped as he felt her moving down his body, and as he felt her lick the tip of his member, his mind went blank, he arched upwards, his eyes fluttered shut, and a groan forced its way out. He tangled his hands in the bedsheets, his body begging for more, but he still held strong, not allowing the words to break free.

She chuckled lowly before leaning back over to take his head in her mouth, sucking on it slowly as her tongue swirled around his tip. She began to bob her head slowly, as her hand began to pump on his shaft. She looked up at him as she worked, her eyes dark and full as her hair cascaded around her bobbing head. 

Gasping and groaning louder and more violently than before, he tangled his hands in her hair, and, against his mental will and pride, the word forced its way out; “Please.” he said, his voice graveled to even his own ears.

She took him further in her mouth, thanking God she didn’t have a gag reflex as she felt him hit her throat slightly, for he was quite large, moaning as she did so. She cupped his testicles gently, wanting to push him to the brink of orgasm before tearing herself away. 

Pleasure and need racked his body, filling him with want and desire as he felt her encase even more of him. His hands clutched even tighter, his back arched higher and higher as he forced his eyes open to look at her. His resolve broke at the sight of her wrapped around his cock; “Irene, please. Please!” he choked out, his breaths coming in gasps.

She pulled back a bit, her mouth now just around his head. She moaned softly as her tongue licked his small slit to taste the bit of pre-cum that was oozing out. She sucked him one finally time before removing her mouth and hand, licking her lips as she swallowed the small bit of cum, before stalking back up towards him to press a kiss to his lips. “How do you want me?” She asked, heatedly. 

Groaning at the loss of contact with his arousal, he grabbed her hips and quickly flipped them over, his lips attacking her own with primal need. Pulling back slightly, he whispered to her; “This; I want you like this.” as he placed his member at her entrance, looking into her eyes as if for confirmation that he could continue.

She caught the brief look of uncertainty in his eyes and raised a hand up to cup his cheek as she leaned up to press a chaste kiss, she searched his eyes for a moment, before whispering, “I’m ready whenever you are, my love. Take your time. And don’t be nervous. I’m right here.” She said, smiling gently at him. “I love you.” 

“And I love you, Irene.” he whispered back. At those words, he gently pressed forward, groaning as his cock was encased in almost searing heat. Slowly, he entered her, all the while his lips were pressed gently to hers. Pleasure was running rampant through his body as he bottomed out, and he had to rein himself in so as not to hurt her. He wanted this time to be gentle, they had all the time in the world after all.

She arched her back slightly and gasped as he slid into her slowly. She bit her lip and winced slightly. He was very well endowed and she was quite small already. She took a breath and spread her legs open farther, to give him more access and allow herself to accept him more fully. She ran her hands up his back, grabbing his skin and muscles, as she let herself adjust to his length and thickness. It wasn’t exactly painful by any means, for she was quite ready for him, she simply wasn’t used to such a size. She let out a low moan as she arched her hips up, “Move, my love.” She instructed softly, “It’ll loosen me up a bit.” 

Listening to her, he moved his hips gently, pleasure running through him at the feeling. Slowly, he felt her relax, and at this, he began to speed up. His lips found her breast again, and he began to suck once more, one of his hands coming up and teasing the other one.

Irene let out moan of pleasure, very much like her text alert as she relaxed around him and he began to thrust into her, finding a steady rhythm. She bit her lip and whimpered as he sucked and played with her nipples, her nails digging into to his shoulder blades. She arched her back and wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles, as she thrust her pelvis up to meet his, sheathing him deeper inside her cavern. “Fuck Sherlock!” She swore, looking into his eyes before throwing her head back in ecstasy. “Yes, faster, love.” She purred. 

Looking up at her, he smirked slightly before replying. “If you insist, my love.” and soon he was pounding away, his arms supporting him as he gazed down at the angel beneath him. Even though it was his first time, he had managed to reduce the dominatrix to a writhing mess. It was beautiful.

She groaned as she leaned her head against his shoulder, biting his neck as he pumped. She grunted as she felt her walls start to clench around him, her orgasm building and building as the tingling sensation swam into her limbs. “Oh, God, I’m so close....Harder, please, I...fuck me silly, my darling.” She growled. 

Grinning with her words, he pulled one of the legs wrapped around him over his shoulder, placing his hand on her hip, and began to pound harder and faster than before. Sucking on her nipple once again, he increased the pressure and intensity that he did so. He was close, so close, but he needed her to finish first. Supporting his body with his own muscles, he moved his hand that was pressing beside her head to massage her swollen mound.

After a few hearty pumps at this new angle, and as soon as his fingers found her throbbing clit once more, Irene Adler, The Woman, his woman, came utterly and completely undone. She cried out as her walls gripped him tightly as her body shuddered and twitched beneath him as the hot sensation of pleasure tipped over and she crashed onto his shores as if from a wave. She buckled beneath him, as her orgasm turned into a rolling one, as he continued his assault. She could feel her arousal pooling beneath them as she came, like she had never come before. Her breath was hard and heavy as her chest heaved to keep up. She stared at him, utterly lost in the pleasure his body was inspiring in hers. She moaned his name, “Sherlock...come for me. I want to feel you as you come.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes as yet another wave of pleasure washed over her and she gripped him tighter. 

He increased his speed as he felt her clench around him, and, at her words, he came. Hard and fast, his body rocked in pleasure and release. Looking at the woman beneath him, he felt wave after wave a pleasure course through him like a fire. “Irene! God, Irene” he groaned out as he felt his semen fill her. His breath came in gasps, the feeling of her nails digging into him creating a sense of pleasure that mixed with the existing. Slowly, his body began to relax and he pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss, muttering “I love you, Irene Adler.”

She felt him ease and soften and unwrapped her leg from around his waist, not wanting him to exit her just yet, however. She kissed his cheek and lips a few times, before resting her head back against the pillow and sighing happily, “I love you you too, Sherlock Holmes.” She smiled at him, before biting her lip, a look of concern crossing her face as a fact hit her. Shit. She thought to herself, her eyes darting around the room frantically. 

Sherlock sensed her unease as he relaxed, his face pulling into a look of concern. “Irene, what is it? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” but he knew he hadn’t, or at least that wasn’t the cause of the unease. He watched as her eyes flitted around the room and removed himself from her before rolling to the side and pulling her into his arms.

She shook her head against his chest, “No, no, of course not.” She mumbled, swallowing as she tried to think of how to tell him. She was terrified of his response, terrified that he’d flee or put his walls up again and leave her forever. That he couldn’t handle what might have just been conceived. She glanced up at him, “It’s just that....I....I’m not...on the pill or anything...I...I haven’t been...sexually active...since....well, since we met....” She confessed, knowing that it showed how far back her sentiment had gone. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, preparing herself for his response. 

That was not the answer that he had expected. Thinking back to what had just happened, he remembered that they had not used a condom. The pieces fell into place. “Oh... well... are you on your cycle?” he asked quietly. He could guess the answer, however, because she wouldn’t have felt so uneasy if she was not.

She shook her head, “No, of course not. I wouldn’t have let your first time be so messy.” She cracked a half smile, though it faded slowly. She thought a moment, doing the maths in her head. “I think I should be getting it in about two and a half weeks...which means....I’m probably ovulating...” She said slowly, counting backwards.

Oh god, please don’t let her be pregnant. Sherlock thought. With everything that was currently going on, and the danger that he, and anyone associated with him was in, he really couldn’t afford for her to be pregnant, as that would put her in even more danger. Thinking about the options, he finally looked at her. “Okay, if you are pregnant, you are in a lot of danger. There are a lot of people out there that want me dead, and they will do anything to get to me. Tomorrow, I will get in contact with my brother and explain what has happened. He should be able to help keep you safe. But for now, you need to relax. There is no immediate danger, and we should be happy. Just know this; I am never leaving you. I will be there for you through all of this, whether you are pregnant or not. I love you, Irene Adler, and I always will.” he said, brushing a small tear from her face. 

The range and mixture of emotions that was flooding her mind at his beautiful, loving words was too much. She broked down and cried against his chest, her body shaking slightly. “Sherlock....Sherlock....I....you....you would want to keep it...if...I am?” She mumbled. 

Shock filled him at her words. She had thought that he wouldn’t want his own child? Forcing her to look at him, Sherlock stared deep into her eyes. “Of course I would want to keep it. I never thought that I would have children, and you could have just given me the best gift ever. I will never abandon you,” he paused, placing a hand on her stomach, pressing his lips to hers sweetly.

She looked up at him, and couldn’t help but grin madly at his words. She reached her hands to cup his face before kissing him softly a dozen times and pulling back to reply, “We don’t even know if I am yet, but...now I pray I am. I never thought I’d be a mother. I don’t think I have the instinct...but...now I want nothing more than to create something that is part you and part me. God, they’ll be brilliant...and beautiful...and will have such a pair of cheekbones...” She laughed lightly, thinking a moment. “Hamish.” She whispered, wondering if he remembered the reference’s source. 

Chuckling at her words, he nodded. “Hamish. What a wonderful name for a brilliant child. I am sure that his namesake would be flattered. However, what if it were a girl? While my family is a bit free with names, I don’t think that Hamish is suitable for a girl.” He smiled, thinking of the names in his family.

She giggled softly at his observation, “No, Hamish is rather masculine. We’ll have to think of a female alternative, should it be a girl. If...we are pregnant...that is.” She couldn’t get her hopes up. And besides, it would probably be better for him if she weren’t. Though she couldn’t help but hope to god that she was. She wanted it so badly now. It would be crushing if she found out she weren’t. Though, they did have the rest of their lives to keep trying. 

Her mind wandered a bit, lost in a girlish fantasy. She bit her lip as her thoughts turned to what normally came before the baby pram--marriage. She couldn’t believe she was actually indulging in such a thought. She never, ever, ever planned to get married before she met him. She had no interest; it was too conventional and far too much of a submissive act on the woman’s part. The tradition of taking the man’s name and the father ‘giving’ her away. No, no, the feminist and dominatrix in her was appalled at the thought.   
Still she couldn’t help but observe that a part of her, a growing part of her was rather keen on the thought of being Mrs Holmes--Mrs Sherlock Holmes. Being tied to him in such an official way. She shook her head. She had no idea what his views on such an institution and figured he probably didn’t believe in it either. He probably would detest the the thought, being so independent and singular. Still, she couldn’t help but hope that maybe one day he might just surprise her and himself and take a knee. She blinked, and looked up at him, blushing slightly, “Sorry, got lost in thought...” She murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Smiling, he shook his head. “I understand, I was too. But for now, we should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow, we need to get you into hiding. Even if you are not pregnant you will still be in danger just by me being here. Go to sleep, Irene. I will still be here in the morning.” he whispered, his mind filling with names of jewelry stores that he could find a suitable ring for her. A smile graced his features at the thought, for while he was not a man of tradition, he could see himself with no other person.


End file.
